Rebirth
by Romantically Distant
Summary: Her pale eyes took in the sight before her. The area might of well have been smoldering in flames for all the ruin the two had produced. The witch wanted to sigh at the whole thing; honestly the two had never managed to end a world nicely. "Who indeed. Isn't that always the question you ask those you judge?"


___This story idea came from a Tumblr Prompt: It is the End of Days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into an afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead.___

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Rebirth

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With a furious sigh, Voldemort stared at Dumbledore, wand still aimed at the elderly wizard. This _always_ happened. They _always_ tied. It irked him—he had gone through countless dark rituals to enhance his powers and yet this bumbling old fool _still_ managed to tie with him. Though judging by his slightly labored breath, Dumbledore had overexerted himself as well.

"Come now, my dear boy…" Dumbledore said, feeling all of this body's hundred and fifty years. This war has dragged on far longer than any of the previous; however, it definitely stalemated in a far more disastrous manner. Millions of lives had been lost during this round—the world around them looked in ruins. He, unlike his enemy, felt the weight of _all _those lost. But he comforted himself in the knowledge that he allowed those who had faith in him into an afterlife far more favorable than the one they died in. Something that could not be said about the man in front of him.

With a hiss, Voldemort shot yet another curse at his old fool. "Do _not_ refer to me as such." It infuriated him even more that, although breathless, Dumbledore still managed to block his rather nasty curses. He hated it. Never in all of his years had he ever despised someone as much as he did the old man. Once, long ago—the older man had been his everything. His father-figure, his mentor, his savior; only to have it all revoked when he became better. The old man never liked someone being more important than he.

"You shall always be—" Dumbledore was silenced with another hex aimed at his throat, of which he barely managed to block. Voldemort's face contorted with a violent rage. He had broken away long ago and refused to be relegated to the position of became a God and refused to be lower than the station he carved his way up to.

"Born in iniquity and conceived in sin," A feminine voice cheerfully replied from behind Dumbledore. Almost instinctively both men had faced her and casted. Their spells ricocheted off her shield as if they were harmless first year hexes. To the elder wizard something seemed familiar about the witch, but he could not place it. She had a hood casting a shadow upon the upper part of her face, which made placing her far harder than he liked. Reaching out with a little bit of his magic, he tried to get a feel of her. Except he could feel nothing.

No good. No evil. Such a curious thing. In all of his years he had never felt someone who truly embodied neutrality, not even the Greengrass family despite their staunch political leaning. Yet this witch standing before him gave away nothing. "And who may you be miss?" The pastel lips slipped into a quirky grin. She pondered on his question, for that indeed was the question. Did anyone really know who they were? Or where they molded by who the world saw them as? Such interesting questions to consider.

Her pale eyes took in the sight before her. The area might of well have been smoldering in flames for all the ruin the two had produced. The witch wanted to sigh at the whole thing; honestly the two had never managed to end a world nicely. "Who indeed. Isn't that always the question you ask those you judge?"

Voldemort gave a sharp intake of breath at the statement. None of the feeble mortals that came before him ever knew of his and Dumbledore's true hierarchy in the world. His magic reached out violently towards the witch before him. Usually when he allowed his magic to encase another, he would feel how moldable they were. How easy they could be converted to his cause or if they should be eliminated. But he felt nothing. This witch, for all intents and purposes, was a void. It made his magic on edge and he did not like that. With another flick of his wand, the familiar green light shot towards the witch.

Except she managed to twirl away before it could land. "Not able to duel, wench?" He hissed out, furious that she managed to avoid his spells while still casting her own. He shot another hex her way, only for her to dance away yet again. It incensed him how easily she could dodge his spells. And yet it also piqued his curiosity, because her magic swirled in the air around her as she twirled, and he could feel_ nothing_. He had never felt a truly neutral personality. There were _always_ ways to bring out the darker side of people, and yet his magic gave him nothing. No cause to sway her to. No goal to inspire her by. The witch before him is blank as a new canvas. Neither good nor evil.

"Death will choose when I shall die," She replied with a loftily grin. The next thing Voldemort knew, his wand flew from his hand to hers and the witch had her other hand resting against the skin of his throat. He had been so caught up in his ire that he hadn't noticed she pirouetted her way into his personal space. Voldemort decided then that her smile belied the danger she possessed. Only Dumbledore had ever been so fool hardy as to enter his personal space, and even then, he had not done that for several centuries at least. But this wench did so with ease, and she had the audacity to be happy about it. He will ensure she spends the rest of her miserable afterlife regretting her boldness.

"Remove your hand before _I_ remove it for you," Voldemort snarled. Except the chit did no such thing. Instead she laughed. After all these centuries, this one never changed. This wizard had always been the more hotheaded one; in part it made him more appealing. He felt so strongly, and it allowed him to rally people to his cause. But those strong emotions also usually lead to his losses as well. Not to say it hadn't played to his strengths either; sin had always held more appeal than virtue ever did.

Dumbledore rarely allowed his emotions to reign; as a result, he had always been the more levelheaded one, the true planner. The elder wizard always planned for the long term. But Dumbledore also was very set in his ways—he spent most of his life developing a following, practically molding people since their early childhood to do his bidding. Perhaps his smartest move had been settling himself at Hogwarts. To mold the mind of the young is to mold the future, after all. But he also allowed himself to stagnant, believing that his adoration would carry him through. He always did love the adulation of his followers and that had led to a number of sacrifices—The Potters immediately came to mind.

"Sometimes a death of a god is needed for rebirth," The grip she had on his pale throat tightened and Voldemort could even feel the how steady her hand rested at his throat, despite the tight grip. Her magic flowed freely and easily—like she felt no fear. Part of him wanted to laugh at the idea of a mere mortal trying to kill him. If Dumbledore had been unable then he doubted this wretched girl would. But his magic felt frenzied, as if suddenly he became the prey instead of the predator. For the first time in a long time, he truly felt worried. Should this witch truly be able to end him, then Dumbledore would win.

Taking a moment to calm his mind, the Dark Lord had allowed himself to center his magic within his very core. He then allowed her words to replay in his mind, before giving a derisive snort at the comment. There was no way they could begin a new –the world was destroyed. The witch tutted at the noise, "Now, now Lucifer, just because _you_ don't remember the world resetting does not mean it has not happened. Most people still denied the existence of Blibbering Humdingers, after all." The chit had the nerve to twirl _his_ wand as she spoke.

"Ah," Dumbledore said with a low chuckle. He walked towards her until he was able to talk face-to-face with the young hooded witch. "Miss Lovegood, a true pleasure it is to see you again. I take it you wish to be judged?" It surprised the old wizard that his old student seemed to have known exactly who he and Tom were. But as with all of her creatures, Luna Lovegood had seen the unseen. At times, she had insight that even rivaled his own; so, he could not be truly surprised that she had come to them at the end of the world. For after all, it must be the end; he would be unable to fully revitalize the world so long as Tom continued to survive. In some ways he was surprised to see her still alive, but not that she had sought them out—surely the death of all those she knew and loved must weigh heavily on her heart.

"You will find I am beyond your purview, Headmaster." Instead of the curious twinkle he usually did at an interesting comment, Luna noticed the headmaster pale. The eldest of the two had always been more knowledgeable, so it came as no surprise that Dumbledore had reached the conclusion first. Then again, Lucifer had always felt he was above the station appointed to him. So, it came as no surprise that he felt nothing could topple his reign.

Voldemort just sniffed derisively before claiming, "None is above our purview. Though with how mighty you act I can assume you belong to Dumbledore." His hand swatted at the hand still grasping at his throat. Shockingly enough, it did not move even an inch and only seemed to tighten all the more. This made his red eyes narrow in anger. His hand reaching out and grabbing her hood and yanking it down. Within moments his hand gripped the base of her neck as he forced her to look at him. His attempt to peer into her mind was futile—all he could see were weird looking creatures of which he had never seen. His hand fell from her hair in surprise. He got _nothing_ from her.

"Although I am hesitant to agree with Tom, I am unsure how you could possibly be…" Dumbledore trailed off; his blue eyes staring into hers. He had taught her grandparents, been the headmaster to her parents, and even remembered the exact day and its weather that she had been born. There is no way she could possibly be outside their purview. Sure, Tom and he had chosen to have a body on earth, but the physiques were nothing but a suit of armor at best to them. The mortal world did not truly house them like it had for Miss Lovegood.

"We have always failed to see the whole array when it's facing the same direction as we," Miss Lovegood replied with a joyful grin. Honestly, she never understood how narrow minded the two could be. One saw himself acting for the Greater Good—a definition he allowed himself to make. What did not fit in that view belonged to his fallen angel. For any who think they're above him are surely the most sinful. The crafty devil, whom she still held in place, would never admit to how similar he and his idol truly were.

"But surely not…" Dumbledore stumbled for words. He had been God for as long as he could remember. He did not create people like the muggles would believe but had given them the gift of magic. Those who had given him their utmost loyalty had been given a spot in his eternity, even some of those unable to do magic. Some of them even became his angels—of course there were some who had fallen from his grace. But to have someone who claimed to be above him? It was unheard of. Especially from a child he remembered being conceived on earth.

"Were you not the one who had said _'Death is but the next great adventure'_?" The blonde questioned. Her soft voice held a tinge of mirth in it. People always feared death, well, except for Harry. Though Luna wondered how much of that should be blamed on the elder wizard.

"Well, yes but…"

"What does it matter what he said? It does not mean you are above our purview unless you seem to think you are somehow Death." Voldemort hissed, peeved that the two seemed to forget his presence while she _still_ clutched his throat. How this mere slip of a witch could ever be such an entity was beyond him. The assumption was ridiculous at best and idiotic at worst. But _something _about the way his magic swirled in panic and how utterly _paralyzed_ he seemed to be in her presence made him start to doubt. His red eyes glanced at the witch before him before turning his attention fully to Dumbledore.

The old man seemed to pale all the more. It made no sense to Dumbledore—he _knew_ the young witch, felt her magic and that of her family's. How would he not have recognized the presence of Death in his world? _He_ made the world into what it was today, _surely,_ he would have noticed the shift in power? Or at least recognized another player on his chessboard.

But the power doesn't lie. The young witch managed to disarm the other wizard with apparent ease, something even he had trouble doing. Her magic swirled around her as well, not stifled in the least in their presence. Furthermore, his own magic seemed to balk at the idea of striking her down. He would not go so far to say that he felt threatened by her, but he just knew in his very bones that could change within a blink.

"You're not possible." The elder man proclaimed. Despite his declaration, Dumbledore really couldn't think of any other possible explanation. Miss Lovegood had always been odd. She had always seen the thestrals, which honestly should have been his first clue that something did not add up with her. But the ease she held his foe's throat and how her magic swirls in the air like a monsoon, he had to at least consider it a possibility.

"Tell me, who will wipe the blood off of you? What water is there to cleanse _you_?" Luna questioned, twirling. Her magic only seemed to increase in magnitude, swirling around the three with ease. The blonde knew the silent statement she made with that little power move. For all the power the two gods possess, they were nothing in the grand scheme. The only entity who rivaled her power was Anu. For without Life there can be no Death. Something the men before her always seemed to forget.

"Despite what you both seem to think—no matter how many times we go through this—neither of you are the only immortals; just the most audacious." The blonde replied with a shoulder shrug. Her grip on Lucifer tightened even more. The wand in her hand lazily pointed at the old man.

With that, the Dark Lord paled. He did not believe the wench, couldn't believe her. They had ruled this blasted world for a millennium with no sign of other immortals. Why would other gods allow that if they had the power to take it from him? From _God_? "I don't believe you," Voldemort snarled with narrowed eyes. His breath slow and steady, the best he could do with his airways constricted by the tiny witch.

"No one said you had to. I never get mad when someone claims Crumple-Horn snorkacks don't exist. People cannot always be right, after all." Her pale eyes glanced around as she took in the surrounding area once more. Anu would be so angry at what they did to her precious garden. Dumbledore seemed weary and despite her earlier power move, Luna felt a bit surprised he had not tried to hex her again. Although she could take it, the blonde knew it wouldn't be without risk. Dumbledore had been granted immortality for a reason; even if he couldn't remember why. Though aside from Fate few Immortals really remember why they come into being. Turning her attention back to Lucifer, the blonde decided what she needed to do.

Her lips met his. Pale eyes watched as red ones widened before he tensed, and his body begun to convulse. Her grip did not waiver, nor did her lips move from his. A minute passed before she finally pulled away, the body crumpling to the floor as she let go of his throat. Running a thumb over her lower lip, Miss Lovegood turned to Dumbledore. Her eyes dared him to check on his fallen foe, to check for signs of life: a heartbeat, a gasp for air, a twitch of the finger. She knew he would find none. But she dared him to try.

"Do you believe me now?" She asked sweetly, allowing her magic to swirl around the two of them. She watched as blue eyes displayed the older man's panic. Twirling the dead man's wand, she allowed herself a small smile. All times come to an end, perhaps now Dumbledore will understand.

"How…"

A tooth grin graced her lips. She had waited for this question for ages. The last time she had to intervene in their pesky squabble he just began to throw hexes at her. "Ever wonder where the dementor's got their ability?" She tilted her head, awaiting his response.

However, the old man just seemed frozen in place. His face drained completely of color and no words fell from his lips. Nothing to indicate he would attack her. She stepped forward, only for him to fall two steps back. The blonde could play this game for hours but figured it honestly would be best not to tarry. She did not want to get sloppy after all.

"What water will cleanse you?" She asked again curiously. The immortal before her had never been close to the rest of them in any life. Most immortals tend to pair off, exclusively dealing with their counterparts and never seeing another. Her, Anu, and Fate being the exception. The life of all had begun with her sister and their deaths belonged to her. Death must prevail so that life could as well. Immortals were not an exception. Even she and her sister experienced rebirth once in a while. It allowed for a complete reset.

A new beginning.

"Why should I be cleansed?" Dumbledore asked with a weak voice. He had watched the man he waged war against get _Kissed_ without even a single dementor nearby. But this girl, a tiny thing, had done so with ease. He had assumed Lucifer created the dementors, for only one of true evil could have ever made those monstrosities. Apparently not.

"The last paged turned, is the perfect excuse to write a whole new book," Luna replied with a cheerful chirp. She watched as his body language changed from one of fear and panic to one resigned resignation. With a gentle snap of her fingers, his wand flew into her hand just in case he tried something foolish. Not that he could do much damage; despite its location in the mortal realm, the Elder Wand's allegiance never strayed from her. Plus Fate had decreed for a rebirth and who was she to go against Fate?

"You say this has happened before…why do I not remember?"

Luna tilted her head to the side as she pondered the question. She could lie and say she had no clue; in fact, she had told him that answer once before. The truth of the matter was simple: the soul did not wish to remember. Each new life grants the soul a new lesson. As Death, she simply takes the soul from its current life so that it can enter the next. She did not control the lesson the soul chose to keep. Nor could she ever convince it to choose another instead.

Scrunching her nose in thought, the blonde decided honesty as the best policy. "The soul goes through mountains and valleys to find that which it needs to learn." She did not know why she had chosen to be honest with him this time, perhaps this was the lesson his soul needed to learn.

"Will it hurt?" Dumbledore's blue eyes searched the young witch's face. The truth of the matter was that he felt tired. This war he waged with Lucifer had drained him more than he would ever admit. The idea of a new start sounded appealing. He could not argue that she had the power—he watched as the young woman collected the soul of his foe with ease. Perhaps, on this matter, the young woman knew more than he.

A rebirth sounds quite nice.

"So long as you do not fight it, it's just like falling asleep."

At his nod, her lips met his and the world went black.

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_So Luna kissing Voldemort and Dumbledore is squicky to me, however I just loved the idea of the Dementors getting their ability of soul-sucking from Death that I had to go with it. I know she kind of seems like a Mary-Sue but I struggled writing her as an Immortal God so to speak. Granted Immortality in this case isn't necessarily living in the same body forever, but the soul having the same occupation so to speak. Writing Gods and Goddesses is a bit tricky for me so I do apologize if she came off as too much of a Mary-Sue. Any pointers you have on how to fix that please let me know.  
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_Please let me know what you think!  
_

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_"…we have always failed to see the whole array when it is facing in the same direction as we…" © Jean Rostand_

_"Tell me, who will wipe the blood off of you? What water is there to cleanse you?" © Friedrich Nietzsche_

_"To a well-organized mind, Death is but the next great adventure," ©JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's stone._

_Anu is considered the Mother goddess in old celtic mythology. She and Death are not actually sisters, but I felt it fit in the story well._

_"The last page turned is the perfect excuse to write a whole new book," © Toni Sorenson_

_"You have to go through those mountains and valleys - because that's what life is soul growth" Wayne Newton_

_"….Just like falling asleep," © JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows._


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